cocobunga

a simply lovely mother's day weekend...

Ahhh...Mother's Day!

As much as we have to do to prepare for the wedding reception in our backyard in two weeks, yesterday was so very relaxing - especially after Saturday where I hosted a yard sale for some friends.  It was the most exhausting $43.25 I ever made.  I kept reminding myself that one man's trash is another man's treasure so I wouldn't feel humiliated about putting out broken things on my lawn that people actually paid cold hard coins for.  Oh, well, I made enough to buy lunch, purchase my lottery tickets (yes, I'm one of those), and buy myself a cosmo or two later that evening.  In truth, the best part - getting together with my friends and giggling over the items we've accumulated over the years - that folks, was priceless.

Anyway, Mother's Day started with a lovely brunch at The Mansion in Voorhees, New Jersey.  It's a favorite spot of Mr. Jensen, that's Mr. Theodore Jensen, our neighbor who is the closest thing I've ever had to a father.  He's a wonderful man and we're so lucky to have him as our neighbor and friend.  He's a very important part of our family.  He's dad to me.

Mr. Jensen took Gary, Mom, Gabrielle, Blaise and moi to The Mansion for a brunch that was unbelievable.  Ooh-la-la.  Bagels, Lox, Frittatas, Quiche, Chicken and Rice, a Filet Mignon carving station, and made-to-order omelettes...just to name a few my friends.  Oh, and I don't want to forget to mention the Mimosas!  Who doesn't love a good Mimosa at 10:00 in the morning?  Wait, is there such a thing as a bad Mimosa?  Hmm...

Here are some pics from our brunch...

After the Brunch, Gary, Mom and I went to the cemetery to see Gram.  Remember we saw her on Easter as well.  Well, needless to say, the conversation was pretty much the same as we placed more plastic pink flowers on her grave.  Yes, Mom continued with where we will put her name on the tombstone.  Here we go once again Mom.  I think we're good now until Gram's birthday on July 20th.  Whew.

By 5:00, everyone was hungry.  Don't know how that could be after the breakfast, lunch, and dinner we had all in one seating at the Mansion.  Wow, digestive systems are pretty amazing, yes?  Mom decided hot dogs would be the best dinner for Mother's Day.  I'm not a huge fan of the hot dog, but Mom wanted one and it was her Mother's Day as well, so hot dogs it was.

As Gary was preparing our Mother's Day Hot Dog Feast, I lent a hand and helped him out.  Okay, really, I opened the bag of hot dog rolls and grilled them.  Gary was all about honey I'll cook dinner for Mother's Day.  I was all about oh, no, I'll help you dear.  I'm no dope.  We all know Father's Day is after Mother's Day for a reason.  Ha.

So, in closing, I hope everyone had a great Mother's Day.  Personally, I want to thank Mr. Jensen - for the wonderful brunch he gave us when all we gave him in return was a hot dog;  Mom - for not putting me up for adoption over the years;  Gary - for making me a mom five times over;  and last, but certainly not least, MASGB - for the joy they give me every day throughout my life, not just on Mother's Day.

Okay, cut me a break...I'm feeling a little sentimental this morning. 

hgtv landscapers' challenge, where are you...

Today is May 4th.  In exactly 18 days, Gary and I are hosting a wedding reception for 150 people in our backyard for Mimi's daughter, Mia, and her soon-to-be-son-in-law, Colin.  So exciting!  Can't wait.  Love them.

So, for pure selfish motivation, I am posting some pictures here.  Now, I know what you're thinking.  Here we go again.  Didn't she post pictures of her disastrous home office for motivational purposes? 

Yes, yes I did.  Umm...still working on that.  And, yep, my tail is between my legs.  But, but, have faith and stay tuned because updated pics will be coming to a blog near you.  Sooner rather than later, I hope.

I'm one of those people who work better under pressure...well, that's just me.  I live for deadlines and always manage to meet them.  I love a good challenge.  Okay, Gary, except when I run out of gas which I'm kind of known for.  Is that really such a bad thing?  Hmm.

Anyway, I took these pictures last Friday.  Yikes, did I mention that we have 18 days from today?  Well, sit back, take a deep breath along with me and take a look.  Wait, let me get a brown paper bag first just in case I start to hyperventilate.

 

This is my beautiful flower garden?  What the heck happened over the winter.  I'm sure those damn dust bunnies have outdoor relatives they've been talking to.  They must be living under my shed.  Ugh.

 

 

 

You know everyone needs THREE propane tanks, right?  Geesh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You mean the candle chandelier doesn't work there on that old darn hook?  Really?

 

 

 

 

 

Somewhere in this mess are the tools I - oopsie I mean Gary - needs to beautify our yard.  Have I mentioned what a wonderful landscaper he is?

 

 

 

 

Well, we have two more weekends to work on this wedding reception venue.  Think we can do it?  The pressure is on.  Mia and Colin...have no fear.

Thinking...so, why exactly did I volunteer to host a neighborhood yard sale this weekend?  AND...where are those scouts for HGTV Landscapers' Challenge when you need them? 

 

they're real and they're spectacular...

If you're an avid Seinfeld lover (like I am), the title of this post may have piqued your curiosity and you may be thinking uh-oh, what is Lynn going to confess now? 

Well, I just want to share these with you...

 

HA!  Aren't they spectacular?

I bought them yesterday and the flower heads were wrapped in netting.  When I removed the netting, they didn't explode until a few hours later after I put them in some water in a vase. 

Isn't Mother Nature genius?

me as a morning person...

So far my day isn't going very well.

It started off great.  I sprang out of bed at 6:20, opened the blinds to let the sun shine into my bedroom, and off I went to Starbucks to get Gary his venti bold obsession.  Ah.  My good-wife deed for the day.  It felt great to be the morning person I always strive to be.

When I came home, up the stairs I bounced with Gary's prized cup of java in my hand.  Look what I did for you this morning honey.  And then...

I went to put Gary's morning surprise down on the nightstand and...shit...it slipped right out of my hand and, in a nanosecond, there was $2.10 worth of coffee all over the alarm clock, the telephone, and my copy of Your Best Life Now - 7 Steps to Living at Your Full Potential by Joel Osteen (yes, it's been on my nightstand since 2007).  Oh, yeah, and my bottle of Tums, which is always next to my bed.

The worst part?  I moved the nightstand and there they were.  A whole family of dead coffee covered dust bunnies.  I killed them with the scalding hot beverage.  By the way, where the heck did they come from, how do they multiply so quietly, and just how long have we been sharing my bedroom?  Hmm...

Anyway, while I'm frantically unplugging everything, Gary tells me to be careful I don't get electrocuted.  Yikes.  All I could think of is how the headline in the obits would read...

Woman dies after doing good deed for her husband.  Electrocuted in pool of Starbucks while saturated dust bunnies shrivel beside her.

 

Well, that's what I get for trying to be a morning person.

 

still waiting for the birds and the bees...

According to Mom, my brother and I should have each had two children.  The first one being a boy, and the second a girl.  After all, that is the way she did it.  Why would anyone want more than two children if you do it the right way and have one of each sex?  Oh, yeah, Mom always reminded us that Jesus was a first born and He was a boy.  So, the girl would naturally come second.  This, my friends, is my Mom's logic.  

So, when my brother had his first child, guess what?  It was a girl.  Uh-oh.  LeRoy did it wrong right out of the gate?  How could that be?  Prince LeRoy never did anything wrong, right?  Fortunately, Christina was a beautiful healthy baby and Mom was obviously thrilled to bits with her first grandchild...boy or girl, didn't matter.

Then, I had my first child, Michael.  Yay for me!  I did something right.  Whew.  I'm pretty sure that was the first right thing I ever did right and I was a mere 23 years old.  And...for once, LeRoy couldn't tell me that he let me win.  Go Lynn.  Go Lynn.

Well, then came our second, Alex.  Oopsie.  Two boys in a row.  How could that have happened?  Again, Mom was bewildered but truly delighted.

Mom cut me a break after I had my third because...lo and behold, praise the Lord...Sam(antha) was born.  Now, you can be done Lynn Ellen.  Notice how Mom uses my middle name when she feels strongly about something.  Why do mothers do that?  Wait, why do I do that?  Maybe the only real purpose for middle names is so that moms across the world can make a point to their kids without using curse words.  Yep, that must be it.

Fast forward four years.  Gary and I had to delicately break the news to Mom that I was pregnant again.  She was pretty puzzled by it but got used to the idea.  She was overjoyed when Gabrielle entered this world.  Two boys, two girls.  Perfect.  Again, Mom was all about now you can be done Lynn Ellen.

Umm...

Let's see, Gabrielle was four months old.  Yes, four months old when Gary and I had to go to have another chat with Mom.  Gulp.  Okay, here it comes.  What were you thinking Lynn Ellen?  Ahhh!  I was prepared this time with my reply.

Mom, you know, how I'm still waiting for you to tell me about the birds and the bees?  You know...s--e--x?  And...my period Mom?  Thank goodness Tina Merenda had older sisters and she explained it to me.  Remember how in sixth grade I had to sit in the hallway with the nuns because you wouldn't sign the permission slip for me to see "the film"?  Well, there you have it Mom.

Seriously now, I was the only kid who was not allowed to see "the film".  I remember Mom clearly stating, "No mother is going to sign this permission slip to see that film."  Hmm...needless to say, I was the only one sitting in the hallway with the nuns while the girls were in one room and the boys were in a room across the hall watching "the film".  My friends couldn't wait to come out to tell me all about it (even though they had to swear on the bible never to discuss what they saw) and I couldn't wait to hear every detail.  I still think the nuns could have given me the little party bag filled with giant Kotex and hygiene pamphlets, don't you?

Truth be told, I have learned to love my childhood stories so - thank you Mom for being an Italian over-protective mother and a wonderful Grandmother.  By the way, Mom, aren't you glad we named our fifth child after Saint Blaise?

Just earning my brownie points while I can, folks.

 

sitting on my hands...

Recently, Gary bet me that I couldn't tell a complete story if I was sitting on my hands.  What?  Do I really flail my arms uncontrollably and make a spectacle of myself when telling one of my never-ending stories?  Okay, well maybe.  I concede.  Hey, he's the one who married an Italian girl from a Philly suburb.  I married an Irish guy from the southern hospitality part of the country.

So, one night, I actually tried to sit on my hands while telling one of my full length movie stories to some friends.  Crazy.  Everything came out garbled.  My mind shut down.  I tell you it really shut down.  My mouth felt glued shut and my tongue just sat there in my mouth motionless.  I couldn't think - let alone speak.

Truth be told, it was kinda nice for a moment or two because my brain is always working overtime.  It was quite peaceful and no one's ears were bleeding.  I'm pretty sure it was pleasant for everyone.  Gary and our friends actually got to tell one of their - shall we call them short - normal length stories and I got to listen.

Apparently, I tend to put in a lot of details into my conversations.  Is there something wrong with that?  You have to gain the perspective, right?

Anyway, fortunately, for my readers my hands are moving while I'm typing so I actually can think straight when I write.  If I had to sit on my hands, my posts would most probably look like this...

j*#st th7eidn q fahe acndika; fne fouet to fo the oafnasdilnao apdinca anga fna feoinasd falacind xeirha fa%!!!!!

And, it wouldn't be because I was using my toes to type.

to catdog from rocket...

For those of you who read about the almost Easter Sunday Massacre of CatDog, I want to share with you how extremely polite Rocket, the dog next door, is:

 

Rocket left a gift for Catdog along with this little note of apology...

 

 

The Irresistible Ultimate Cat Toy...wow.  Truth be told, I think CatDog was unscathed - physically anyway.  Rocket, on the other hand, had some cuts and scrapes on his nose and his people were mad at him.  Poor Rocket.

 

my friend james...

Often our Sunday morning ritual is to go to Starbucks.  Gary gets his bold fix and I grab a fountain soda from Wawa on the way.  We sit in Starbucks.  Gary reads the newspaper and I hook up to the internet and try to return e-mails, although I get very distracted because the people-watching is better than sitting through any Academy Award winning movie.  It's so real.  But, that's a whole nother story.  This story begins and ends in Wawa.

Yesterday morning, as I'm walking up to the door to enter this convenience store, an older man, who looked exactly like James Earl Jones, held the door open for me.  He was dressed to the nines in a summer suit, white shirt, and a striking sophisticated fedora.  I was sure he had either just come from church or he was heading that way.

Now, keep in mind, I'm here in little old Jenkintown and even though Renee Zellweger and Bradley Cooper have been spotted around town (because BC is filming in Philly and his parents live in this area), I was pretty sure James Earl Jones had not been hanging out in our tiny borough.  I guess it was just his long lost twin. 

As James (yes, I decided that is going to be his name in this story) held the door open for me, I said, "Thank you so much sir."  He responded in his very deep basso voice, "You're welcome ma'am."  Very polite but a bit gruff in tone.

Anyway, off I go to the back of the store to get my fountain soda.  I'm not really a soda drinker but once in awhile, it quenches my thirst.  Never would I drink a can of soda.  Or a bottle of soda.  Why is it they taste so different to me?  Yuck.  For me, it can only be a fountain soda.  It's kind of OCD complicated so please bear with me.  Here's my usual routine...

 

1.  I take a 32 ounce cup - never smaller, never larger - it must be 32 ounces.

2.  I fill it with ice a little less than halfway - never halfway, never more than halfway.

3.  I fill the cup a third of the way with regular Coke - never Pepsi.

4.  I then fill the cup to the very, very top with Diet decaffeinated Coke.

5.  Lid it.

6.  There are two size straws at Wawa.  One is longer than the other.  The longer one is thinner. The shorter one is wider.  I always, always choose the shorter one.

7.  Sip.  By the way, did you ever notice the first sip of wine is always the best?  Well, the first sip of my fountain soda is always the best as well.  Why is that?  Hmm...

 

At any rate, as I am standing at the fountain soda machine, James shows up next to me and we are both begin preparing our beverages.  I get my cup.  He gets his cup.  I fill mine with my perfect amount of ice.  James gets his ice.  I begin to fill my cup with my Coke.  I notice James begins to fill his with Diet Coke, not decaffeinated.

Now, I need to switch places with him to get to my diet decaf so I ask James if he would mind switching sides with me. 

 

Me:  "Sir, would you mind if we switch sides?  I know it's weird but I mix my sodas."

James laughs.  "I mix my sodas too, ma'am."

Me:  "Really?  What do you mix?"

James:  "I like a little bit of Diet Coke and then I add Cherry Coke to the top."

Well, by now, we are both laughing at each other and I think we were laughing at ourselves as well.

Me:  "Crazy, huh?  Wouldn't you love to be one of those people who is less complicated and just comes in to get a regular old soda without thinking so hard about it?"

James:  "I sure would, yes, I sure would."

Now, since I was on the straw side, I asked him if he had a preference of straw size.

James:  "Oh, yes, ma'am.  I only ever use the longer straw."

Me:  "Ha!  I like the shorter fatter straw!"

 

Honestly, we were laughing so hard that had we been drinking our sodas at the time, it surely would have come out of our noses. 

I paid the cashier for my drink still giggling about my conversation with my new friend James.  As I was walking out the door, I turned around to notice he was now at the register.  I couldn't help myself.  I just had to go back in to ask him one more question.

 

Me:  "Sir, I just have to ask you this.  You're not, by any chance, a Scorpio, are you?"

James:  "Ha, ha.  Yes, ma'am.  My birthday is November 10th."

Me:  "MINE IS NOVEMBER 19th!"

We were both amused like two little school children again.

Me:  "Make it a great day sir!"

James:  "You make it a great day too ma'am."

 

I thought about James more than a few times yesterday.  All day long, I wondered if he also preferred Turkish Pistachios. 

 

 

a little humility for me...

Look at this...

and this...

 

Gross, huh?

Now, I don't know when or how this happened because I just cleaned our home office not that long ago.  Of course, that's pretty relative I guess.  For example...I did clearly post in one of my previous blogs that it seems though it was just yesterday that I was changing diapers for my kids.  Umm...my kids are 26, 25, 21, 17, and 16 years old.  So, when exactly was "not that long ago"?

Well, I know it was before the holidays when everyone came to visit.  I remember gathering the clutter throughout my home, opening the door to the office, and then quickly slamming the door closed while I was blinking so I didn't have to see in there.  Yep, I planned when to blink.  Because you know...if you don't see it, it doesn't exist, right?

Yes, in looking back, not that long ago was definitely before the holidays.  Truth be told, it had to have been before last summer as well.  You know it was way too nice outside to be stuck inside sorting and filing everything in that room.  Hmm...I can't remember what I was doing on the rainy days.  That would have been a good time to tackle this huge mess I created.  But no.  I don't remember eating bon-bons and watching soaps...honest.

Sam graduated from high school in 2007.  I kinda remember doing the same hide-the-clutter-clean-up before her graduation party.  Damn...that takes it back to at least 2007...ugh!

Anyway, it has really been bugging me.  Let alone how it is messing up my karma.  And, oh my, I don't want to even think about my feng shui.  Because of this clutter, something really catastrophic is happening to my inner peace and my personal Chi.  I know it.  Geesh! 

Sooo, this morning I took a glance in there.  Horrified.  Totally horrified.  I decided today was the day to tackle this office so I can be one of those centered people totally comfortable with life.  You know those people, don't you?  Apparently, I am NOT one of them.  How could I possibly be centered when I have a room like that right down the hall from my bedroom?  Yes, today was going to be the day.

Well, it's now 3:00 pm and the office still looks exactly the same as it did this morning and back in 2007.  Shit.  Instead, this is what I did this morning...

I met with a contractor at Mom's house because she wants to replace her claw foot tub with a walk-in shower.  Mom broke her wrist not that long ago and realized she better not be climbing into her antique tub.  She is pretty convinced she will fall again so she is going to have her bathroom remodeled.  I chatted with the contractor over the design and then continued on my way.

To my home office?  Umm...no.  I got a little sidetracked.  I couldn't help it.  It's over 80 degrees here today and gorgeous so I thought I needed to work on my inner peace in a different way.  I headed down to Kelly Drive in Philadelphia.  I power walked (ha, yes, power walked) along the Schuylkill River by the Art Museum and Boathouse Row, all the while, listening to my iPod.  I think it was a sign from God that I was supposed to do this since my iPod was miraculously fully charged when I found it under some magazines.  Be-bopping my day away listening to, of course, the Black Eyed Peas, here's what I saw...

 
...and then, the Phillies Phanatic reached out to give me a hug and told me that my mental health day today was okay.  Okay, not really...just humor me.

It's supposed to rain tomorrow, so maybe, just maybe - since I have humiliated myself with the first two pictures of the hell hole - I will lock myself in the office until I can take another photo of a clean organized office to share with you.  Until then...you could peek in my linen closet and see my perfectly folded fitted sheets, okay? 

 

Food for thought to myself:  "I claim to be a simple individual liable to err like any other fellow mortal.  I own, however, that I have humility enough to confess my errors and to retrace my steps."  Mahatma Gandhi 

 

 

 

the cat came back the very next day...

Whew.  I was just about to write my true confession about what an irresponsible pet owner I was when I heard a shrilling MEOW at the back screen door.  Startled, I fell off of my chair and my hand was tangled in my mouse which, in turn, scurried across the tile floor.

CatDog had been missing for a little more than twenty-four hours.  Yesterday, Easter Sunday, there was an "altercation", shall we say, with Rocket, the dog next door.  I screamed, my neighbors screamed, we all screamed.  Gary, who was reading the Sunday paper in the "library", even came running out to see what the ruckus was all about.  It was ugly. 

Fortunately, after the pet scuffle was over three and a half hours later - okay, it was really about 15 seconds - there was no blood or guts to be found (excuse the visual).  On the other hand, there was no glory either as CatDog was nowhere to be found.

We searched and searched for her.  Around the yard and neighborhood, we called her name and pspspspspspsped to no avail.  Need I remind you, she's deaf.  Well, you can't blame us for trying.  Poor kitty.  Our neighbors felt terrible.  I felt terrible.  Yuengling looked depressed.  Oh, yeah, let me mention that Yuengling sat and watched the whole thing.  I think he was wondering why Rocket wasn't playing with him?

Throughout the night, Yuengling moped around and kept looking out the door.  Gary and I speculated about how CatDog surely must have had internal injuries.  Our conclusion was that she must have gone to a far away place to die...alone.  Apparently, according to neighbors and friends, that is what cats do...who knew?

At one point, there was verification of the inevitable gloomy ending.  Gary and I went out to the back porch and looked down onto the patio.  We spotted an all black cat we had never seen before staring back up at us.  Ah-ha.  The feline grim reaper.  So sad.

Well, I'm relieved to report that CatDog is in one piece with no signs of injury.  Moments ago, after I picked myself up off the floor, I opened the door and gave her some of my chicken as a special treat for her traumatic experience.

All is well with CatDog.  I hope all is well with Rocket.  And, Yuengling...well...he's back to his favorite spot in the dining room...with CatDog right next to him.